


Hot Coffee

by apollos



Category: South Park
Genre: Cock Rings, Coffee, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:41:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6426160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollos/pseuds/apollos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Craig has a brilliant idea. Tweek has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this: http://precheur.tumblr.com/post/134674822417/he-doesnt-even-like-coffee

Craig came up with the most brilliant idea of his life when he was pouring himself a mug of coffee. Tweek was playing video games on the couch in the living room and Craig was supposed to be bringing Tweek back some coffee, too, but Craig had this brilliant idea, so he came back with only coffee for himself.

"What the fuck!" Tweek said, when he saw that. He paused the video game and set the controller down. "Where's my coffee!"

Craig sat down, pretending not to take care with the mug and subsequently spilling coffee all over himself. It wasn't that hot, though that wasn't something he'd paused to consider while working through his brilliant idea. Tweek stared at him, mouth open, and Craig tossed the coffee mug behind him. It clanked against the end table; Craig looked back and saw that it had not broken, which was good.

"What the fuck!" Tweek repeated.

"Whoops," Craig intoned, turning back to Tweek. "That was all the coffee in the house."

"Really?" Tweek asked, his eyes blown wide, his head cocked. God, he was hot like this, all strung out and addicted-looking. His thumbs were twitching as if he still had the controller in his hands. "That was it?"

"Yup."

"Well, what am I supposed to do, Craig?"

Craig's heart picked up beat, his cock finally awakening to the reality of the situation. "Lick it off me," he said. He was also shirtless, as was par for the course on quiet Sunday mornings spent with Tweek. They'd already fucked once today, up against the sliding glass doors in Craig's house, their breath fogging the glass. They'd had to clean the come off the glass afterwards, but it was so worth it, the way Tweek's little nipples got so hard against the cold glass. Thinking about that, Craig's cock was steadily rising.

"Lick it off you?" Tweek still seemed mad, though. Craig frowned.

"Yeah," Craig said "Like, sexually." He gestured to his lap, his erection obvious in his sweatpants.

"That's so cruel," Tweek said, but he was already moving closer to Tweek on the couch. The pause menu music from the video game was playing on repeat, but Craig couldn't hear it over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. "You're the worst boyfriend _ever_."

"It'll be great," Craig said, because it would be, and he was already anticipating Tweek's tongue on his chest. "Like a coffee lollipop. A coffee Craigpop."

Tweek grabbed Craig's cock through his sweatpants in a quick movement. Craig yelped uncharacteristically. "Or a lollicock," Tweek said.

"You're so clever," Craig deadpanned. "You're the cleverest boyfriend in the whole wide world. Lick this stuff off me before it gets cold."

One hand massaging Craig's dick through the sweatpants, Tweek leaned his head down, his mouth zeroing in on Craig's right nipple. Tweek spared Craig nothing, his teeth knocking against Craig's sensitive skin, and Craig supposed he deserved that. Tweek sucked with ambition, leaving Craig's nipple to explore his chest, biting and licking and doing all of these wonderful motions with his tongue that felt lewd and pornographic, making Craig blush even though they were alone, the curtains drawn. Craig was sure he'd come in his pants with Tweek touching him like this, but Tweek removed his hand from Craig's cock, moving it to instead squeeze the inside of Craig's thigh. Craig groaned, pushed Tweek's head towards his dick.

"Not yet," Tweek said, looking up at Craig and smiling. Tweek looked absolutely vulgar, coffee and spit on his chin, lips fat and pink. Craig looked down at his chest and saw a mess of strawberry-colored hickeys already forming, groaning again. "This is your punishment."

"Fuck," Craig said. To his confusion, Tweek sat up and took his hair out of its messy man-bun, looking at the black hair tie he'd had in. "Uh, Tweek. What are you doing?"

Without saying anything, Tweek pulled Craig's sweatpants down. Craig was not wearing underwear; his cock was ready, curved, full and leaking. Tweek slid his hair tie on it, down to the base. It felt—good. Weird, but good. Craig was still confused.

"To keep you from coming," Tweek explained, pulling on the elastic just a little and letting it slap back. That hurt, but in a way that sent pleasure reverberating throughout Craig's body. "We don't have a cock ring."

"How the fuck—"

Tweek said nothing, just lowered his head to begin working on the bottom half of Craig's body. Craig's thighs spread as wide as they could, one leg hanging off the couch, one ankle hooked on the back of it. Tweek wiggled onto his stomach, his hair framing his face, and Craig was slightly pleased to see that he seemed to be slightly humping the couch as he worked on sucking the coffee off of Craig's thighs. It was a while before he got to Craig's cock, and when he did he only licked it with just the tip of his tongue, up and down, under the head, along the slit.

"Fucking swallow it," Craig instructed, wrapping Tweek's loose hair in his hands.

"Craig," Tweek said. He stopped licking and looked up at Craig, his pupils as fat as Craig had ever seen them. "That's impossible."

"Fucking _suck_ it, then, please," Craig said.

Tweek made a noncommittal noise and, instead, flicked the head of Craig's cock with his fingers.

"Are you really that mad at me?" Craig moaned. He felt like his head was a million miles away; perhaps he was about to pass out from blood loss, from being so terribly hard for so long.

"Your fault for being a dick and spilling all the coffee!" Tweek said. He twitched. Craig recalled when Tweek would twitch like that while speared on Craig's cock; it was the best fucking feeling, and Craig would give anything to shove his dick up Tweek's ass and come like a geyser, fucking him sideways for doing this shit to him. But he'd acquiesced, he'd let Tweek take control in a complete reverse as according to his brilliant idea, and God, Craig was loving it. _The most exquisite torture_ , he thought. _The little death I have been deprived of_. Tweek was teasing so goddamned hard he was writing poetry in his head, thinking about the inside of his ass.

Then Tweek took him in his mouth, and Craig might as well have died, because he'd experienced all the pleasures there were to experience in life at that moment. "Jesus!" he said between his teeth, grabbing fistfuls of Tweek's hair. Tweek's hair was coarse, ill cared for, and frankly a little smelly, but the way it tickled against Craig's thighs while Tweek hollowed his cheeks and the way Craig could yank at it with all his strength and Tweek would barely feel it made up for all of that. So Craig yanked, and so Tweek hollowed, and Craig thought, if he could pause time, if he could choose a moment to live in forever, this would be it.

The good thing about Tweek—well, one of the many, many good things about Tweek—was that he had no gag reflex. When they discovered this as preteens, they'd spent whole days finding increasingly ridiculous objects for Tweek to stick down his throat: a cucumber, a remote control, one of those plastic toy chickens that squawked when you squeezed them. This coincided with Craig's discovery of masturbation. Translated into the current day, Tweek was a fucking pro at blowjobs. Like a vampire who subsided off of semen, Craig thought, and there he was writing poetry again, but he was balls-deep in Tweek's mouth and Tweek was humming and sucking and thrumming and fuck, fuck, fuck—

Craig had never been on the verge of orgasm for so long in his life. "It's starting to hurt," he whined to Tweek, twisting his hair around his fists.

Tweek said nothing in return, his mouth otherwise occupied.

"Please," Craig said, tears streaming down his face. "Please, Tweek, God, I'm sorry, I lied there's more coffee—"

But Craig regretted his pleas as soon as soon as Tweek popped off of Craig's cock, a string of spit connecting his mouth to Craig's cockhead until Tweek sat back on his haunches. Craig's eyes narrowed in on Tweek's now exposed crotch; he wasn't hard, a dark stain on his own pajama pants, and Craig's hips moved involuntarily with the sight. Then Craig looked at his own cock, was almost alarmed by how red, how wet it'd managed to become in Tweek's mouth.

"There's still coffee?" Tweek drawled, voice hoarse.

Craig huffed through his nose. "Yeah."

"Be right back."

Craig groaned and rested his head against the couch, watching Tweek walk towards the kitchen. His pajama pants slid down his hips, exposing the top of his ass. Waves of feelings he couldn't quite identify washed over Craig; his fingers went to the hair tie on his dick, twisting it around, not daring to remove it.

Tweek returned a few moments later with another mug. "It's _cold_ ," he protested.

"Well, you've been edging me for like, fifteen minutes," Craig said.

Tweek took a long drink of coffee, his Adam's apple bobbing, and made a noncommittal noise. "Poor Craig," he said then, coming to his knees in front of the couch, putting the coffee mug on the end table beside the previously discarded one. "You put up with so much of my shit."

Craig himself made a noncommittal noise; the alternative was to say something totally mushy and ridiculous, like ' _cause I love you_ , or something. Instead, he whimpered as Tweek slid the hair tie off, then pulled his hair back with it again. That was sort of gross, Craig supposed, but he couldn't care less, because Tweek was going down again.

Craig came as soon as Tweek's tongue touched the tip of Craig's cock; his heavy, hard load went directly into Tweek's eye, then his cheek. Not the first time he'd done that to Tweek, but it was the first time it happened unexpectedly, and Craig sat back and drank in the sight, cock still pumping, now down towards Tweek's collarbone.

"Asshole!" Tweek said, wiping at his eye. "That hurt!"

"Your fault," Craig said. He closed his eyes. He needed a fucking nap.

"Whatever," Tweek said. He pulled the shirt he was wearing over his head, wiping the come off his face and areas of his chest that had been exposed.

Tweek climbed back on the couch while Craig pulled his sweatpants back up over his softening cock. Craig laid down, his head on Tweek's thighs, while Tweek picked up the game controller, unpausing the game. Craig fell asleep easily, effortlessly. He dreamt about that dumb game he and Tweek used to play as kids, the ones where Craig was a thief, Tweek a barbarian, and there was some stupid stick they needed to save. Tweek was locked in a tower; Craig needed to save him, climbing the side, using his stealth powers. He was rewarded for his efforts with a kiss, with fondness in Tweek's eyes as he said, "You're the best boyfriend ever in the whole wide world, you know?"

"I know," dream-Craig said. "You wanan go get some coffee?"


End file.
